so far."
"It appears we have a child in need of punishment," Wotan said softly. "And the Tower?"
"Everyone there died except Claude Rivers, an Eleventh Leveler. The sleeper."
Wotan nodded in recognition. "Peter Briggs himself has ordered Rivers back in there as quickly as possible. Plus, I don't want him mingling with the other prisoners and guards. It puts them in danger."
"I'll inform Warden Banks."
"How'd Rivers survive?"
"It was an unusually high tide, so the water eventually covered up even his cell, but he ripped the U pipe out of his toilet and used it as a snorkel. The water's surface was only about four inches above the top of his ceiling bars. He spent the better part of an hour staring at the rippling air just out of reach before the emergency crew arrived.
"We notified all the prisoners' families, and no one should be a problem, with the exception of Cyprus's mother." She paused and pursed her lips. "She's a real bitch, sir."
Wotan leaned forward and light from the dim lamp fell on his face. Travers saw his bare eye socket, the skin stretched over the hole.
"I called Briggs first thing this morning. We're not going to fool around on this one." Wotan drummed his fingers on the desktop, then stopped. "I want Marlow on it," he commanded softly.
Travers shifted uneasily in her chair. "Sir, can't you give us more time on this? Marlow's a hell of a guy to unleash in this situation-- it's like letting a fifteen-year-old loose in a whorehouse, if you'll pardon the metaphor."
"It's a simile. And I want him."
A moment of silence followed, broken when Wotan cracked his knuckles by pulling his fingers down at the joint with the thumb of the same hand, one at a time. He paused between each pop, letting the noise fill the air. When he finished his fingers, he made a fist with his thumb inside and tightened it. His thumb cracked sharply. Then, he cracked the fingers of his other hand in similar fashion.
Travers sat quietly in the chair and waited for this ritual to end. She cleared her throat nervously. "Very well, sir. We'll put out the retainer and update him. Marlow usually works alone when he tracks, but we'll give him the flexibility to take another agent-partner if he needs it. He usually doesn't like the distraction, though."
Travers rose from the chair. "Wotan, sir . . . we will keep intelligence on it, won't we?"
"Of course. Just don't interfere with Marlow. I want him well-oiled and on course as soon as possible." His fingers traced the edge of the weighty marble ashtray that sat always within his arm's reach on the desktop. "Marlow will bring him in. He always does."
Travers had to lean forward to hear Wotan's final words, his voice was so faint. She snapped her head in a quick nod and left the room as Wotan ran his fingers gently over the bare socket of his left eye.
Chapter 17
A L L A D E R laughed softly as he wiped the noses of the two children. Their arms and legs were bound with gray duct tape and they lay struggling on the couch. The tape was also wound around their heads several times, covering their eyes but leaving the rest of their faces exposed.
The bodies of their parents lay on the carpet next to the couch. The woman's body was sprawled over her dead husband, her limbs interlocked with his. Their heads, arms, and legs were positioned at unnatural angles. Although Allander had intended them to look like two people holding each other intimately, they looked more like broken action figures.
Before arranging this deadly embrace, Allander had carefully gouged out their eyes with a knife he had found in the kitchen. It had taken him some time to get up the courage to approach the woman. The first thing he had done was to wet a towel and smear the white beauty mask off her face.
Now, he sat on a love seat with his knees pulled up to his chest. He hugged himself and grinned as he addressed the children.
"I'm certain that your estimation of your mother and father was rather hyperbolic
"It appears we have a child in need of punishment," Wotan said softly. "And the Tower?"
"Everyone there died except Claude Rivers, an Eleventh Leveler. The sleeper."
Wotan nodded in recognition. "Peter Briggs himself has ordered Rivers back in there as quickly as possible. Plus, I don't want him mingling with the other prisoners and guards. It puts them in danger."
"I'll inform Warden Banks."
"How'd Rivers survive?"
"It was an unusually high tide, so the water eventually covered up even his cell, but he ripped the U pipe out of his toilet and used it as a snorkel. The water's surface was only about four inches above the top of his ceiling bars. He spent the better part of an hour staring at the rippling air just out of reach before the emergency crew arrived.
"We notified all the prisoners' families, and no one should be a problem, with the exception of Cyprus's mother." She paused and pursed her lips. "She's a real bitch, sir."
Wotan leaned forward and light from the dim lamp fell on his face. Travers saw his bare eye socket, the skin stretched over the hole.
"I called Briggs first thing this morning. We're not going to fool around on this one." Wotan drummed his fingers on the desktop, then stopped. "I want Marlow on it," he commanded softly.
Travers shifted uneasily in her chair. "Sir, can't you give us more time on this? Marlow's a hell of a guy to unleash in this situation-- it's like letting a fifteen-year-old loose in a whorehouse, if you'll pardon the metaphor."
"It's a simile. And I want him."
A moment of silence followed, broken when Wotan cracked his knuckles by pulling his fingers down at the joint with the thumb of the same hand, one at a time. He paused between each pop, letting the noise fill the air. When he finished his fingers, he made a fist with his thumb inside and tightened it. His thumb cracked sharply. Then, he cracked the fingers of his other hand in similar fashion.
Travers sat quietly in the chair and waited for this ritual to end. She cleared her throat nervously. "Very well, sir. We'll put out the retainer and update him. Marlow usually works alone when he tracks, but we'll give him the flexibility to take another agent-partner if he needs it. He usually doesn't like the distraction, though."
Travers rose from the chair. "Wotan, sir . . . we will keep intelligence on it, won't we?"
"Of course. Just don't interfere with Marlow. I want him well-oiled and on course as soon as possible." His fingers traced the edge of the weighty marble ashtray that sat always within his arm's reach on the desktop. "Marlow will bring him in. He always does."
Travers had to lean forward to hear Wotan's final words, his voice was so faint. She snapped her head in a quick nod and left the room as Wotan ran his fingers gently over the bare socket of his left eye.
Chapter 17
A L L A D E R laughed softly as he wiped the noses of the two children. Their arms and legs were bound with gray duct tape and they lay struggling on the couch. The tape was also wound around their heads several times, covering their eyes but leaving the rest of their faces exposed.
The bodies of their parents lay on the carpet next to the couch. The woman's body was sprawled over her dead husband, her limbs interlocked with his. Their heads, arms, and legs were positioned at unnatural angles. Although Allander had intended them to look like two people holding each other intimately, they looked more like broken action figures.
Before arranging this deadly embrace, Allander had carefully gouged out their eyes with a knife he had found in the kitchen. It had taken him some time to get up the courage to approach the woman. The first thing he had done was to wet a towel and smear the white beauty mask off her face.
Now, he sat on a love seat with his knees pulled up to his chest. He hugged himself and grinned as he addressed the children.
"I'm certain that your estimation of your mother and father was rather hyperbolic
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